Reversal of Linguistic Fortunes

 

In whispers spun from tongues diverse,
Where letters dance in clever verse,
A mirror’s game, a playful twist,
Languages spin, and none are missed.

In English, “stressed” flips to “desserts,”
A sweet escape from heavy hurts.
In Spanish, “sal” becomes “las,”
A sprinkle of salt, a change in class.

French offers “rester” turned to “reset,”
A pause in time, a chance to forget.
In German, “leber” reflects as “rebel,”
A liver’s tale, a revolution’s revel.

Across the globe, in every land,
Words reverse with a sleight of hand.
Italian “ano” to “ona” plays,
A cycle of life in playful ways.

So here we weave a tapestry bright,
Where languages shift in day and night.
In each reversal, a story told,
Of cultures and connections new or old.

Walking Along the Trail

 

Yellowed cottonwood leaves crunch underfoot,

a mild breeze cools off the path ahead...

Squirrels dart across, stop, look, then rush off,

rustling underbrush reveals their secret routes.

I can hear some in the trees making various sounds,

munching or scolding or muttering something.

They are in full-on preparation for winter.

Birds begin to flock, squawk and squabble.

They, too, are getting ready for coming changes.

The scene is peaceful and pleasing,

the best time of year around here,

not at all like down south – facing down

yet another giant hurricane of storms.

My sympathies go to them down there.

But I still want to enjoy this fall beauty here in Iowa.

Because our turn for some nasty weather is coming.

Not if, but when – and how severe we get it. Like

bills, always in the mail headed our way, sooner

or later – and we always hope for the latter.

For now we can enjoy it here, but also prepare for

what surely must come ahead one of these days.

Damn weather!

Victorian versus modern sensibility

 

All of these do-it-yourself stores

offering things like self-service saws.

Reminds one of the Victorian era,

with up to their moment modernity,

stressing individual self-sufficiency.

The British gentleman was expected to dress

fashionably from head to toe, shining,

Yet also to be able to rise to any occasion.

Whether fighting off brigands with cane or pistol,

repairing some coach or other modern conveyance...

A man for all seasons, tough for any reason.

Also living in an era without antibiotics or

adequate food safety, and occupational dangers.

You had to be everything at all times for all occasions.

Even if you only lived to a ripe old age of 45.

Think of Rudyard Kipling’s “IF” poem,

applied to males across the British Empire.

So glad we evolved into a more nuanced world,

one that gives individuals room to be themselves.

We are flawed humans, not supernatural beings.

Some self-improvement can be great, but it is also

good for technology-swamped minds to relax.